


Then Came the Morning

by Schwoozie



Series: And Baby Makes Four [11]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Developing Relationship, Early Mornings, Finger Sucking, Fluff, Grinding, Morning After, Multi, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Shot, Polyamory, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schwoozie/pseuds/Schwoozie
Summary: Beth has stayed the night several times now, but she still hasn't stayed till morning. Daryl doesn't know how to change that. Today, though, he feels compelled to at least try.





	Then Came the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be something else but it became this and I'm very happy. I hope it makes you happy too :)
> 
> The title is borrowed from the Lone Bellow single.

Daryl still isn't used to waking up tangled in two other bodies—never got used to waking up with just one other either—but some days he thinks he's getting there. Like now: hints of dawn just beginning to brighten the shades as Daryl opens his eyes, prompted by a tap on his wrist.

His throat rumbles as he takes a moment to resist; to tighten his arms already in a vice grip around her, bury his face in her neck, breathe her in through her unbound hair. She laughs softly, aware as Daryl is of Rick sleeping behind him, and for several seconds she stays where she is; snuggles back into him, nudging his dick with her ass until he's twitching.

He's never been so responsive to touch in his life. Used to take him ages to get hard, even with someone working hard at it, and now he thinks a few more moments of this and he'd be ready to fuck her again.

She doesn't give it to him though, and he doesn't expect her to. After several more teasing wiggles he feels her try to pull away. This time he lets her, exhaling heavily as he relaxes enough for her to slip free, sit up on the edge of the bed.

His arm drops awkwardly now that it has nothing to hold. Once she's gone he'll grab a pillow or turn around to wrap himself around Rick, but as always he waits. His eyes slide across her naked back, from her shoulders to the top of her ass as she pauses to roll her neck, wipe the sleep from her eyes.

When she turns around his breath catches. It's too dark to make out the blue of her eyes or if the skin around her mouth is still red from their beards, but the sight of her stirs an ache in his chest: her typically somewhat-tamed hair flying wildly around her, her smile small and sweet as she leans down to kiss him.

If he were Rick he might do something to keep her here: put one hand on her cheek to drag her deeper into the kiss, tangle the other in her hair until she's boneless and pliant and dropping to the bed to roll beneath him–

But his arm remains folded awkwardly across his chest as she presses her lips to his, a soft caress and then gone. She sits up still smiling at him, tucking her hair behind one ear before turning to stand and hunt for her clothes.

One of these nights, Daryl thinks, he should get her occupied with Rick so Daryl can gather up all her clothing and hide it. Wouldn't have to be anything devious; could just stuff it under the shirts in Rick's dresser, get back to it and in the morning watch her look around the floor in confusion until she gives up and crawls back beneath the covers with them. Could see what she looks like in the full morning light, her skin tinted something different than it is under the overhead lamp. Not better, probably, but different. And to see the details of her just-woken face... the thought makes him _want_ in a way he isn't used to. Still isn't used to.

But as usual these are plans he is only coherent enough to make once the haze of sex has faded; as usual, she finds her clothes quickly and carries them out of the room. After a few seconds he hears the bathroom door click shut; a few moments more and the pipes grumble as they carry water to the sink.

Daryl finally lets his eyes slide closed again, although he isn't tired. Usually doesn't need more than a few hours of sleep anyway, and it's rare his body gives him more than that. It's been less rare since he started sharing his bed; first with Rick and then with Rick and Beth and at first it was fear of waking them that kept him still when he once would have wandered into the living room for a few hours of TV, but now... his skin doesn't hum quite like it used to, doesn't feel too tight for his body as he lies supine and vulnerable when he should be upright, ready to face whatever woke him. Now it's easy—easier—to sink back into Rick's body heat and the texture of his skin and ignore his own rabbiting heart until it quiets.

Or it usually is. This morning he can't quite manage it, even as Rick shifts closer to him, the arm draped across Daryl's waist tightening as he mumbles something unintelligible. This morning Daryl doesn't drop into a doze, waiting to hear the front door open and shut before he rolls over and presses his face into Rick's neck, lets the other man's steady pulse lull Daryl back to sleep.

This morning his skin is buzzing again and he doesn't know why but he listens to it anyway; slides out from beneath Rick's arm, turns to lift the sheets back to Rick's shoulders before finding a shirt and sweatpants and padding into the living room.

Beth looks up from her phone when Daryl intentionally steps on a creaky spot on the floor. She's fully dressed in what she'd been wearing the night before—jeans, tank-top, and cardigan, so he supposes it isn't _exactly_ what Merle'd call a “walk of shame”—and her wild bedhead tamed into a neat ponytail. She pauses between noticing him and lowering her phone, smiling unsurely. Since that first time when Rick walked her to the door, neither of them have followed her out of bed.

“Hey,” she says. “Everything ok?”

Daryl shrugs, an embarrassed realization rising in his chest that he doesn't know. There's no difference between this morning and any other when she's left them, but Daryl feels like he has to say something and he has no idea what it could be.

Beth's smile melts into a frown and she glances at her phone before walking towards him. He doesn't feel a stormy flutter of fear when she approaches him anymore; at least, not much of one. His heart remains relatively steady as she comes to a stop, close enough to touch if he wants to.

He does want to—he always does, and out of all the cliffs this girl has walked him towards that's one of the most frightening—but he keeps his arms at his sides; angles his head so hair drops into his face and she won't be able to see anything there that he doesn't mean her to.

“Y'already call a cab?” he asks.

“Yeah. It'll be a few minutes, though. I have time.”

 _Time for what?_ he wants to ask; wants her to tell him what the fuck he's doing out here while Rick is still asleep in in the bedroom, her practically bouncing on her toes to leave.

But—she isn't, is the thing. She's so calm, phone held loosely in her palm as she looks up at him, and he knows what he came out here to stay.

“Why d'you always go?”

She blinks, clearly taken aback, and he hopes that came out like he meant it to—a question, just a question, not a complaint or a plea or oh god what a _pussy_ he is, saying something like that like she's got an obligation to stay with him, them–

“I need...” She trails off, mouth closing slowly. She looks at her shoes, bites her lip. A mirthless laugh bursts from her chest. “I was gonna say I need to study. And I guess I do, but.” She looks at him through her eyelashes, one side of her mouth quirked. “That's more an excuse than anything.”

Daryl's heartbeat speeds up, and he prays to God his voice isn't going to shake.

“Why then?”

Beth pauses again and then she's all around him—not her but the smell of her as she slides her phone into her pocket and steps closer, her shoes brushing his bare toes. He stands still as stone as he feels his thigh muscles long to quake, send him swaying and maybe toppling into her or maybe just dropping him down for a kiss but she doesn't want that, she's leaving, she's close enough that he can smell the vestiges of arousal he missed when he wiped her thighs down the night before but that doesn't matter. She's leaving.

“I'm scared, I think,” she whispers.

Daryl can't help it; he scoffs. “If you're scared, girl, I don't wanna know what the fuck I am.”

Beth's smile is sad as she reaches forward, plays with the fabric over his stomach.

“Ain't a competition,” she says. Daryl ducks his head so she can't meet his eyes anymore, but still it's a mistake; now he sees how close they're standing, her tiny little fingers dancing across his shirt just a few inches above where she'd been touching him when the sun set. Where they both were.

Daryl feels his dick begin to twitch and he doesn't want it to, he _doesn't_ , cause probably all she's thinking about is heading home and getting some real sleep without an asshole like him squeezing the life out of her. It took him a while to realize he was doing that. Had been doing it to Rick for weeks, the two of them getting off and then Daryl wrapping himself around Rick's torso, hugging him like Rick was the damn stuffed mutt Daryl's mama'd gotten him from Goodwill before Pop decided he was too old for things like that and threw it into the campfire.

It was something to do that with Rick but with Beth... she's so small. He's seen the way Rick loses himself when he fucks her, has felt how strongly her insides pulse around his own dick as her heels practically drum against his ass, pulling him closer and deeper until maybe he loses himself a little too. And he knows that's ok because she's said it is, but there's still sometimes a voice in his head afterwards that feels how different she is from Rick and is terrified. A skinny little thing but still so soft, his fingers indenting her flesh easily when they wander. Even her wiry biceps and sturdy thighs are like pools he could sink into.

He feels like he’s sinking now, wisps of her hair catching on his lips as his head tips forward, nostrils flaring as he takes the smell of her. He pretends sometimes that this is what she smells like at her most elemental, all processed scents and perfumes and soaps stripped away until there’s nothing left but her.

He knows that isn’t true. There’s more here; there’s him and Rick, their laundry detergent and sweat and cum and the Glade plug-in from the socket near the dresser. There’s no _just her._

There’s no _just her_ , but if there were he’d want it to be this.

Daryl hears rustling from the bedroom behind him and he stirs a little, fingers rising to hover uncertainly on her hips. Beth hums deep in her throat. Daryl is well on his way to hard now and he doesn’t tense up when a kiss lands on the back of his neck; melts into it as Rick’s hand lands on his lower back, sliding down briefly to cup his ass before rising again, rubbing soothingly.

“You having a party without me?” Rick rumbles, right into the spot on Daryl’s neck that makes him shiver all over. He does shiver, and Beth giggles, and she can’t leave now, she can’t, not when Daryl feels ready to melt into a puddle between them.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Beth murmurs, her breath washing across Daryl’s jaw as she tips her head up. Rick presses in closer behind Daryl and fuck, Daryl should have known the bastard wouldn’t bother with pants; Rick’s dick is solid and blasting heat through the thin fabric of Daryl’s sweats. He wants so badly to reach back and grab hold of it but he doesn’t know if it's ok to do that with Beth here.

And Beth... Beth’s breathing is speeding up, her palms pressed flat against Daryl’s chest and fingers scrunching a little in the fabric, digging into his skin. Rick’s hands are on Daryl’s hips now like Daryl’s are on hers, but Rick’s grip is more firm, moving Daryl against his dick even as his body pushes Daryl forward. Daryl is too lost to consider resisting, doesn’t know why he should until he feels pressure on his own dick, building as Beth hums again and presses her thigh towards him and Daryl is gripping her hips now, his face slipping along hers until they’re panting in each other’s ears.

She feels so _good_ , is the thing. Good in a way that makes no sense; just like it made no sense the night he first saw her, dripping wet and miserable, to think, _This girl could be mine_.

No fucking sense. Nothing he ever wanted before, not even when he was balls deep inside a woman, drunk off his ass and thinking all manner of thoughts except for those that led to the body underneath him. Shutting that part of himself off because if he didn't he'd throw up. Knew that from experience, and wasn't that a memorable way to lose his virginity: the girl Merle'd pushed him into the closet with screaming at him and the whole party gathered round just as she flung the door open and the automatic hand he shot between his legs to cover himself gave him just the friction he needed to come.

Vomit and cum and alcohol and cheap perfume and then this girl, this dear girl whose perfume isn't all that expensive either, whose pussy mingles with his cum so sweetly, who doesn't just press her thigh forward into his dick but gasps into his ear as she does, a whispered _oh my god_ sending shivers to the soles of his feet. Not because he's really touching her. She's in a position to get off on his leg but she isn't doing that; seems to be focusing on the way his cock rolls against her through his sweatpants. He isn't even _doing_ anything to her and she's acting like this is the best fuck she's ever had. Even when it's Rick behind him setting the pace and the rhythm—everything but the clench of Daryl's hands on her hips—it's Daryl's name she whispers.

Her hand slides up Daryl's chest to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair before reaching further. Rick's mouth pulls off Daryl's shoulder right before Beth whimpers, teeth bared against Daryl's cheek and the sounds of Rick sucking on her fingers loud in his ear and it's the feeling of her curling the rest of her hand back around Daryl's throat—pulling Rick closer, close enough that his tongue slipping between her fingers laves Daryl's neck too—that makes the last rusty, crooked gear in Daryl's mind click into place.

The groan rolling from his chest reverberates through all of them as he drops his head, Beth's open lips catching on his ear until he finds her neck. His mouth seals over her skin, and the next time Rick pulls in on her fingers Daryl does the same where he is, the skin already stretched so taut that he can't find the give but keeps sucking anyway, like he could drag the rest of her inside of him through this one spot on her neck. Rick's dick is hard against Daryl's ass and Daryl grinds back into him—a moment, two, Rick's groan and Beth's gasp as Rick's teeth must close on her fingers, the ache behind Daryl's balls that none of them have addressed, not really, not yet—and when Beth surges up against him he meets her, his teeth closing on her too as one hand flies to her shoulder-blade and his other grips her ass and he uses the grip to drag her closer, roll his dick against her leg and feel his balls burn–

Her phone vibrates in her pants, in her front pocket, pressed firm enough against Daryl's hipbone that he feels the waves in his teeth, and his hips give another involuntary jump forward. But she isn't pushing into him anymore—isn't pulling away but isn't pushing, and he hears the _pop_ of Rick's lips as she drags her fingers from his mouth, scrambles at her jeans until the vibrations stop.

The three of them are clutching each other just as tight but save the small circles of Rick's hips against Daryl's ass, they aren’t moving. They crane their heads to look at Beth's phone, see it bright and blinking, the alert that her ride is here.

They must have been making more noise than Daryl thought, for the sudden silence rings like tinnitus in his ears. Two chests contract and expand against him as his forehead drops against Beth's temple; as he stares at the two minute countdown on her screen.

He doesn't mean the noise that comes out of him; or if he means it, he doesn't mean to make it. A huff of breath, frustrated but with the pitch of a whine beneath it, a tremble he doesn't like, not at all. Rick squeezes his waist like a comfort but Beth's head whips around and there are her eyes again, enormous in her flushed face and so close that if she blinked he could imagine the breeze of it on his skin.

Her phone vibrates again. She doesn't blink.

Rick's chin settles on Daryl's shoulder and Beth's eyes flicker to him before returning to Daryl. He doesn't know what he looks like; doesn't know what she could possibly see that keeps her from wrenching herself out of his arms, pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek before she races for the stairs. Her ride is here. She's supposed to leave.

She doesn't wrench but she does pull away and his arms fall as air flows into the space between them. He drops his face and looks at his feet. Can see Rick's bare toes behind his heels, Beth's scuffed Converse still only inches away. Rick's arms slide more completely around him and Daryl swallows, forces down the absurd urge to cry as he waits for Beth's shoes to vanish.

Her phone _clicks_ like she's turned the screen off, and when he feels Rick's cheek rise against his like he's smiling Daryl looks up, confused.

She's still looking at him, but her eyes aren't quite so large. There's a smile tugging at her mouth, and his scowl deepens as she slides her phone back into her jeans.

“Don't you–“

“I cancelled it,” she says. Her voice is still low with arousal, but there's something solid beneath it, like she's decided something. Like something has changed. She looks at Rick and back at him and her smile grows a little uncertain. “They'll charge me for that, obviously, and I can call another one if you want but I–“

“You wanna stay?” Rick says.

Daryl almost snaps his head around to look at him but Beth's expression stops him. She nods, her lower lip between her teeth. Rick asked the question but she's still looking at Daryl.

“If you want me to,” she whispers.

Daryl's breath whooshes out, and if it weren't for Rick behind him he might stumble. Beth looks at him and the silence stretches.

Rick squeezes his stomach gently, turns his mouth towards Daryl's cheek.

Daryl realizes they're waiting for him to say something. To answer.

_As if they don't know._

Daryl tries to speak, but the air catches uselessly against his scratchy airway. He clears his throat.

He was gonna hide her clothes. It can't be this easy, in the end. It can't...

“You want her to?” Rick prompts.

They aren't pressed together anymore. Rick is a warm comfort against his back, but Daryl can't feel his dick anymore. Beth is a foot away, almost, looking up at Daryl, still worrying her lip.

They aren't pressed together. But they could be. Will be.

Daryl shrugs, jerky. Still doesn't trust his voice, so he grunts. He's growing uncomfortably warm under their attention and if they make him say it–

She's smiling again. Soft, small, curling her lips. A blush lights her cheeks. She presses her palms against the front of her jeans, slender fingers curling.

“Then... then I'll stay.”

She breaks Daryl's gaze at last, still smiling that secret smile as she looks at her feet, walks past them and into the bedroom.

Daryl closes his eyes, leans his head back towards Rick's shoulder as he listens to the sounds of her shoes hitting the floor, rustling and the _snick_ of her jeans as her clothes come off, the soft protest of the mattress as she sinks into it. The slide of the sheets as she pulls them up and over herself, her sigh as she settles.

He knows she's waiting for them. Knows Rick knows that too. But Rick still hasn't released him; he sighs himself, then presses his lips to Daryl's shoulder, to his neck. Lets Daryl feel his smile against his skin, his breath rolling across Daryl's throat.

“Good job,” Rick whispers.

Rick pulls away, stepping back as Daryl turns to face him. They stare at each other for a few moments, that smile still playing on Rick's lips.

Proud, Daryl thinks. Proud of him.

“Hey,” Beth's voice calls from the bedroom, already soft and heavy with sleep. “Y'all coming to bed or what?”

Daryl surprises himself, and chuckles. Rick's grin widens. He reaches for Daryl's hand and when they meet Daryl grips him back.

 _Mine_ , a treacherous part of his brain whispers. A laughable part. It's all so laughable, he thinks, as Rick pulls Daryl's hand to his mouth, kisses the back of it. And then Rick's tugging, tugging but not leading the way, turning his body and urging Daryl past it, letting Daryl into the bedroom first.

Beth's eyes blink open as they enter, then slide back closed, that smile back on her lips as she snuggles deeper into the pillow. Daryl lets go of Rick's hand and climbs in behind her, pausing only to pull his shirt over his head before curling around her, the expanse of her bare back landing like a punch as he meets it with his chest, her stomach soft as he winds his arm around her. She doesn't wait for him to tighten his hold; she's already covering his arm with her own, pushing herself backwards as he buries his face in her hair, loose again.

Daryl lets out a shaky breath as Rick settles behind him, not on his stomach like he'd been sleeping before but on his side too. He kisses the knob of Daryl's neck as he flops his arm across the two of them, slides his shin between Daryl's legs. Beth hums and shifts and their limbs are tangled like knots and Daryl wishes he could be facing both ways at once; could breathe against Rick's mouth while still holding Beth tight, the two of them sturdier than any anchor.

“G'night,” Beth murmurs. Rick mumbles the same. Daryl stays silent.

He's still hard, a little; none of them got off in the living room and lying here so close together, Rick's erection poking him in the spine, doesn't do much to help. But he doesn't mind. Sort of likes it, even. They don't have to get through everything in one night. They can save something for the morning.

The morning. All three of them illuminated by the light behind the shades, higher than it is now, still in the final stages of dawn. Laying out until they're sun-warm to the touch. Sitting at the small kitchen table with crusty lashes and cottony mouths, eyes sparkling through their yawns. Leaning over and kissing each other because they can, sharing jam on their tongues, Beth's mad giggles as he and Rick slather it on her cheeks just to lick it off.

He's only dreaming it, the morning. But he won't always.

She didn't leave. None of them did. Anything could happen now.

 


End file.
